Poland’s chief rabbi symbolises a remarkable revival in Jewish life

CRACKING jokes and dispensing wisdom in American-accented Polish, Michael Schudrich, the chief rabbi, is a fixture in Polish public life. Newspapers quote him; talk shows adore him; schools invite him. That is both good and important news.

Poland's few thousand practising Jews are a sliver of a pre-war population of 3.5m. Mr Schudrich, who was born and raised in New York but has spent most of the past 20 years in Poland, spends his time partly ministering to them, but more trying to add balm to the wounds of history. Hostile stereotypes about Jews abound among Poles, and vice versa. A new book co-authored by Jan Gross, a historian, may set off a new storm: it details looting of Jewish graves in chaotic post-war Poland. Many in modern Poland prefer to focus on the common suffering under the Nazis, and on the large numbers of Polish “righteous Gentiles” honoured for saving Jews.

One success Mr Schudrich cites is Poland's rigorous investigation of a pogrom in 1941 in Jedwabne (now marked by an official apology from the country's president). Another was more personal. In 2006 he was punched by a skinhead (he hit back). The attack brought condemnation from media and politicians alike: the thug was seen as the outsider, not the rabbi. Behind the scenes, Mr Schudrich works hard to rebut simplistic outside judgments, as in 2009, when Britain's Labour Party tried to brand the Polish allies of their opponents, the Conservatives, as anti-Semites.

Aiding Mr Schudrich's reconciliation efforts are prominent Polish Jews and Catholic leaders (Pope John Paul II was a supporter). Last year Lech Kaczynski, the late president, invited Mr Schudrich to Smolensk to commemorate the Soviet massacres in 1940 at Katyn of 22,000 Polish officers (including the army's chief rabbi). But the event was on the Sabbath; Mr Schudrich declined—and missed the plane crash that killed Mr Kaczynski.

As Jewish culture, food and history become fashionable in Poland (an annual festival in Cracow is a big draw), many are unearthing roots that were buried or forgotten in Nazi or Communist times. One estimate holds that Poland has 20,000 “hidden Jews”. Mr Schudrich stresses that identity is a matter of choice, but offers everything from advice to conversion for those who seek it.

That can involve paradoxes of a typically Polish kind, such as a former ultra-right couple, Ola and Pawel. Ola learned that her family was Jewish. When she told Pawel, he discovered his roots were, too. The pair sought out and befriended Mr Schudrich, becoming active members of Poland's Jewish community.